


if the heavens ever did speak

by MajorinMonster



Series: heavy lies the crown [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Polis, Post s2 finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 09:37:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3564872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorinMonster/pseuds/MajorinMonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sky was an open wound, bleeding rain into the earth by the time Clarke next ventured outside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if the heavens ever did speak

**Author's Note:**

> Clarke is dealing with some depression in this, I can only write for my personal experience with this and I hope I've portrayed it without offending or hurting anyone, please tell me if this isn't the case so I can do better in future. This is the second work in this series and it's unlikely to be the last. I hope you enjoy it. (I'm http://bisexualclarkgriffin.tumblr.com/ on tumblr btw if anyone wants to say hi)
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: One very vague reference to suicidal ideation. Clarke doesn't want to die but she does wonder at one point if living is worth it. There's also some talk of child death (specifically those at Mount Weather).

The sky was an open wound, bleeding rain into the earth by the time Clarke next ventured outside. She’d spent the last three days wallowing in the chambers next to Lexa’s rooms, avoiding everyone, including Lexa herself for the most part. Not that Lexa spent much time hanging around her, she was in charge after all and apparently she had better things to do than babysit a sky person. She wasn’t sure where the Commander’s most recent outing had taken her but she hadn’t been back for half a day and Clarke’s hunger had been growing, slowly but surely beating down the urge to avoid the entire world. She dragged herself from the comfort of warm blankets and a soft mattress, dressed quietly in clean clothes that had been left for her days ago and pulled on her own worn shoes. She left her bag in the corner where it had been since she flung it there that first night, tucked her gun back into her pants, just in case, and headed for the doors.

Despite the rain the sky was bright enough to blind her for a few moments when she stepped out of the shelter of the building. Clarke blinked, hair already curling at the ends, reacting to the moisture in the air. This is mourning weather, she thought absently. When they had burnt Finn’s body it had been a warm, dry day. When she marched on Mount Weather the skies were relevantly clear. But this downpour was different, like the sky was grieving right there with her, like she wasn’t alone. That last part at least was true. She’d expected the streets to be as empty as they had been when she arrived but there were people everywhere, children especially, running around in puddles and splashing each other, throwing balls through the air and laughing when their friends fell trying to catch them. Clarke watched until the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach deepened and all she could see was the lone football from Mount Weather, resting against a table leg while its owner lay dead not even a foot away.

She was tempted to sink back into the darkness of her borrowed bedroom, to crawl beneath the covers again and pretend she was back on the Ark when it had still been among the stars, when the Earth was a happy daydream and not this constant nightmare. But she was still hungry. The dead are gone Clarke, the living are hungry. Lexa’s voice echoed in the back of her mind and she shuddered, wrapping her arms around her middle as she ventured further into the rain. After the first few times of trying to get her up Lexa had told her that she wouldn’t be waited on and if she wanted food she’d have to find it across the street. She hadn’t sounded angry, Clarke had wondered more than once if she was trying to bait her into moving from the bed but in the end she could never muster the strength to care all that much. It was like travelling to Polis had leeched the last part of her willpower, leaving her with only what was needed to keep breathing.

She wondered if it was worth it. When every inhale felt like another knife between her ribs and every exhale was another child dead. She paused in the middle of the street, staggering slightly to the side in a mixture of hunger induced exhaustion and grief. A warm hand on her shoulder jolted her out of her haze and she wondered how long she’d been stood there, staring at nothing. She glanced up, expecting to see Lexa and pulled back slightly when she realised the woman in front of her was Rena. Clarke was surprised when she noticed the look on the other woman’s face was not the same scathing look as it had been the first time they met.

“Clarke kom skaikru,” Rena bowed her head slightly, “There are stories about you now that we have not heard before. The Mountain Men, they are gone?”

“Yes,” Clarke said, her voice barely above a husky whisper, lack of recent use rusting the words. Her eyes searched Rena’s face, though she wasn’t entirely sure what she was looking for. Condemnation maybe, disgust probably.

“Good,”

Clarke recoiled slightly, “Good,” She repeated listlessly, “There were children,”

“Look around you,” Rena let go of the shoulder Clarke hadn’t even realised she was still holding and the loss of support steadied her for a second, “Are there not children here? Children whose parents’ blood ran through the Mountain Men’s bodies?” Rena looked over her shoulder and the hardness in her eyes lessened for a second, “They are our future, and you saved them,”

“No,” Clarke shook her head, “No, Lexa had already forged a deal, she was-” Rena’s sneer stopped her mid-sentence.

“Never trust the word of men who hide within mountains like termites in their mounds,” She spat, “Heda did what she thought was best and maybe in the moment it was, but they would have hunted us eventually, with bigger weapons and better armour,”

“Rena, I don’t-should you be saying this?” Clarke wasn’t used to Grounders who weren’t Lincoln or Octavia disagreeing with their leaders. She wasn’t entirely sure what a termite was but from the venom in Rena’s voice she doubted it was a compliment.

“Are you going to tell on me?” Rena smiled then, dark eyes twinkling in a way that Clarke thought was suspiciously flirty. “Besides,” Strictly business again, Rena’s back straightened and she peered into Clarke’s eyes, “Jus drein, jus daun.”

Clarke wondered how Grounders felt about people throwing up on them and decided it probably wasn’t the best way to win hearts. She turned away instead and started walking. “If I never hear those words again it’ll be too soon,” She muttered, ignoring that Rena was clearly set on following her.

“You need food, Heda told me to take you if you get lost, which you are bound to do, so why not remove the boring part in-between?” Clarke threw a dark look at the other woman but Rena just smiled. She was nothing like the person Clarke had met three days previously. These people sure did take their blood seriously if the death of the Mountain Men had really changed Rena’s opinion on her that fast. Clarke grimaced slightly as her stomach threatened to attempt rebellion again.

“Whatever,” Clarke sighed, “Where are we going?” She slowed slightly to let Rena take the lead.

“Here,” Rena strode to one of the smaller buildings on the left.

Clarke glanced over her shoulder at the building she’d left, “You really thought I’d get lost?” Rena raised a thick eyebrow in her direction but didn’t answer and Clarke didn’t have the strength to push the topic. She would never admit it but she didn’t even know how long they’d been on the streets for so maybe she would have managed to get herself lost. She followed Rena through the narrow entrance, relieved that the place was mostly empty and bright enough that her eyes didn’t have much of an adjustment to make. The walls were a faded red, spotted with the painted remnants of what might have been flowers once upon a time. The floor was a simple wood, scuffed from years of Grounder boots but clean of dirt and mud. There were only three other people in the room, two sat at an off-white table in the corner and one was behind the counter near the back of the room. They all looked up when Clarke and Rena entered and Clarke spent an uncomfortable moment wondering if everyone knew the stories that Rena clearly knew, if they were aware of what had happened at Mount Weather, if they knew what she did to Finn, aware of what she and Lexa had almost become. She didn’t attempt to meet their eyes.

Rena was either oblivious or choosing to ignore the awkward silence. Clarke was willing to bet it was the second, Rena didn’t strike her a someone who was oblivious in any sense of the term. She called out a greeting to the man behind the counter, moving to perch on the edge of a stool and staring at Clarke until she sat too. Silence brewed like a storm in the making, lining the walls with an uneasy awkwardness that threatened to overwhelm her.

“Rena,” The man behind the counter dropped a platter onto the top of the counter with a gruff nod. He said something else, in a language that Clarke recognised to be Trigedasleng and Rena replied back, her words, whatever they might have been, as sharp as the knives Clarke had noticed were strapped to the other woman’s hip. She watched as Rena left the table to retrieve whatever food had been served, trying to ignore the rumbling of her stomach.

“Here,” Rena claimed her seat again and shoved the tray in Clarke’s direction. “Eat, it’s good,”

“What is it?” Clarke picked up what appeared to be a wrap. There was meat in the center, soaked in some kind of gravy and wrapped in a flat bread. It smelled good, with a thick, warm aroma that she’d never encountered before.

“Does that matter?” Rena smiled slightly when another rumble of Clarke’s stomach answered that question for her, but Clarke didn’t eat until Rena gave in, “It’s just panther,” Clarke wasn’t sure she believed her but there was no real reason to lie and she was hungry enough that she wasn’t sure it would matter if it turned out to be something different. It wasn’t like she hadn’t eaten weird things with the 100 back at the drop ship. Her appetite dipped slightly at the thought of her friends. Were they doing alright? She knew there wasn’t a choice in leaving, not really. If she had stayed, if she had looked at their faces every single day she might have driven herself insane with guilt and loss. She didn’t regret killing to save her people but she did regret that it had come to that in the first place. If she hadn’t run, if she’d have left Anya to escape by herself, would things have been different? She’d probably never have met Lexa, for one. There wouldn’t have been an alliance. Finn wouldn’t be dead. Or maybe he would. If he’d killed 18 innocent people trying to find her on the ground what would he have done trying to find her in the mountain? She shuddered slightly and tried to distract herself by eating. It worked until the food was finished and she had to confront her demons again.

“Heda will be back soon,” Rena reclined on her stool, tapping bitten finger nails on the table between them, “She is hunting,”

“I didn’t ask,” Clarke shrugged, glancing around the room again and eyeing the exit, wondering if she could make it without Rena following her again.

“But you were curious,” Rena sat forward slightly, eye’s focused on Clarke’s face, “She is different since the alliance between our people, and different again since it ended.” Clarke was silent, one eye still on the exit. “When you were at the mountain-”

“So why does she hunt anyway?” Clarke quickly interrupted, stopping that line of enquiry before it could even start, “Doesn’t she have minions?”

“Minions?” Rena’s brow furrowed and her mouth twisted, “I don’t-”

“Sorry, you know. Grunts? Lackeys? Servants?”

“Ah. No, Heda enjoys hunting, she’s always been good at it and she finds peace sometimes, in the forest away from the bustle of our people,” Rena lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug, “I’m sure you of all people can understand why she does so. You are a leader too, after all,”

“I’m not leading anyone right now,” Clarke argued, though she wasn’t sure why. She did understand, for the most part, but she didn’t feel like being agreeable.

“Whether your people are following you right this moment or not is irrelevant, to them you will always be leader, always be Heda. You wouldn’t be here if this was untrue, you’d be back at your camp with them, looking to someone else to make the hard choices and wondering why they leave after victories,”

“Yes well, maybe I don’t want to be a leader,” Clarke was aware she was grumbling and wondered if she should feel embarrassed by it, but even with food she was too exhausted to put much effort into it and so the blush on her cheeks faded fast.

“There is an old saying, here on the ground, it goes back to before the War that started this, to before the destruction. Some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them. Heda is the first and you, I think, are the last. You came down to this place without knowing what to expect and you started a war you weren’t even aware you were fighting in until it was almost too late. But instead of running away you chose to stand up, to fight for your people.” Rena stood then, indicating that Clarke should do the same, “Despite our differences, Clarke kom skaikru, we are the same in many ways,” They left the building side by side, greeted by the scent of rain in the air and the feel of the sun on their faces, the children were still playing in the puddles, people were still bustling around, but it didn’t feel quite as suffocating as it had before. “The rain has stopped,” Rena smiled, “This is a good sign for you,” Clarke blinked at her, unsure what she was supposed to say to that. “Come, Heda may already be waiting,” Clarke threw one last glance over her shoulder as they walked, watching the Grounder children as they paused in their play to watch her until she was out of sight.

***

Lexa was, as Rena had predicted, waiting for them. She was pacing slightly, in a very constrained line, in front of the entrance when Rena pushed the door open. Her eyes scanned Clarke from head to foot, quick and efficient, like she was just checking to make sure she was all there. “You are out of bed,” She said, “You have eaten?” Clarke nodded and Rena placed a hand on her back, pushing her forward almost gently, until she was almost fully in the room.

“Heda,” Rena murmured, nodding her head respectfully but then looking up with an almost mischievous smile.

“Thank you, Rena, you may return to your duties,” Clarke got the distinct impression that Lexa was doing her best not to roll her eyes. It was silent again when Rena left, as they stood there in the awning of the door. Lexa was watching her but Clarke was doing everything in her power to avoid meeting the other girl’s gaze.

“I’ll just…” Clarke trailed off awkwardly as she started to head for the side rooms, where her temporary bed was.

“You’re going back to bed?” Lexa stopped her with those five words, the disappointment in her voice sending an extra wave of guilt through Clarke’s body.

“So what if I am?” Though she’d stopped in the doorway between her room and Lexa’s she didn’t turn around.

“Clarke, you cannot hide forever,”

“I’m not hiding,” Clarke denied, back stiffening as she glared at the wall, “I’m dealing,”

“You are not ‘dealing,’ Clarke. You are sinking,” Clarke didn’t argue this time, she didn’t have the strength to keep it up.

“Talking to you,” She said, voice half broken, “Seeing you, being near you. Seeing them, the children in the streets, the people. Rena. It’s _killing_ me,”

“Why?”

“Because I _understand_!” Finally she spun around the face Lexa, a little shocked to find that Lexa had moved closer and they stood only a few steps apart now, “I know why you did it. I knew before but seeing them like that, happy and playing and alive. I understand why you did it and I can’t hate you for it but I hate me for not being able to hold you responsible because if it’s not your fault then it has to be _mine_ ,” She rubbed at her eyes and tried to choke back her grief.

“Clarke,” Lexa half reached for her, letting her arm drop before it could actually make contact, “What happened at Mount Weather is not your fault. If the blame lies with anyone it is with the Mountain Men. They were living on borrowed time, borrowed life. They were not innocent, Clarke, not even the newborns, because their lives were bought with the death of our people and that makes them guilty,”

“It’s not like they had a choice,” Clarke argued, voice still slightly wobbly, on the edge of breaking again. She wasn’t sure why she was trying to defend them. Maybe it was the thought of Maya in her green suit, or Jasper’s face as he held her dead body. Maybe it was the football by the side of the table, or the boy who it had belonged to, dead and decomposing in the mountain that had kept him safe since birth.

“There was a choice. They could have chosen to die,” Lexa took a single step forward, “They chose wrong and that is not your fault,"

“Then why do I feel like this?” Clarke pressed her hands to her chest, “Why does it hurt like this? In the rare moments I don’t feel numb I’m paralysed from feeling. Why do I feel like that?”

“Because you’re human, Clarke. You grieve for what you’ve lost, for who you’ve lost, for being forced into making choices no person should have to make. But we do have to make them, they are ours by nature,”

“Some have greatness thrust upon them,” Clarke nodded, wiping a stray tear from her face and laughing, slightly hysterically. “Will it get better?”

“Yes. With time. But you cannot lie in the darkness forever, not if you want to live in the light,” Lexa took one final step forward and reached out with a hand that trembled ever so slightly. Her fingers stroked against Clarke’s cheekbone. “Will you let me help you?”

“Yes,” Clarke nodded jerkily, meeting Lexa’s warm eyes. Lexa smiled at her, and Clarke was reminded suddenly of the time they spent avoiding Pauna, when Lexa had smiled at her then, looking entirely like the teenage girl she was. She dredged up the strength to smile back, and it was worth it when Lexa’s eyes lit up a little more.

“Good,” Lexa said, voice soft. They were still gazing into each other’s eyes and Clarke thought she might have been blushing again, but she was too caught up in Lexa to know for certain, “Then we’ll start by teaching you how to swim,”

Clarke nodded, then paused, “Wait...what?”


End file.
